


Exposed

by angelwriter



Category: British Actor RPF, Good Omens (TV) RPF
Genre: Boys In Love, Cuddling & Snuggling, Doctor Who References, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Gay Rights, Hair Brushing, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Calls & Telephones, Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24145342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelwriter/pseuds/angelwriter
Summary: I cleared my throat and put on my best suggestive voice. "So. I hear you are telling people how I'm a very attractive man. Making flattery remarks about my hips...How scandalous, Michael!"Michael chuckled on the other end of the phone line. I smiled. "Never thought I'd see the day you're on Twitter. You sound kind of surprised by this? You know how I feel about your hips.""Oh I do. But I don't know exactly. I mean you've never really explicitly said it.""Would you like me to?"
Relationships: Michael Sheen/David Tennant
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Exposed

**Author's Note:**

> In honour of the wonderful celebratory day of David's life (18.04) I present to you an inspired Sheen/Tennant fic. Prompted by Michael's #Jackastory vlog where he is delighted (and always enthusiastic) to remind us what an attractive man David is. He also mentions David's slinky hips. So this fic does indeed contain a notion to David's hips. This fic takes place on the day after David's birthday where the Doctor Who fandom did a watch party with David on Twitter. 
> 
> Word of note before you decide to read.
> 
> The beginning is quite sad and emotional, it also gets really intense during the middle section. Warning for mild implied sexual content (MXF) and masturbating! The ending is incredibly soft and happy though. 
> 
> (Reminder: dont like, don't read and please be respectful) 
> 
> This was not what I intended to write. It was honestly meant to be some kind of emotional and fluffy phone sex piece. That was the idea I had in my mind when I began writing this. But as I carried on the story just sort of wrote itself and it became more potent and more intense than I ever thought was possible in my writing. To be honest, this somehow hit deeper. The emotions just felt so real. And I do know actual people who have to go through similar situations. 
> 
> So this is for you. You lost souls. The lovers who have to fight for their love to be seen and heard. May you find your freedom.

Song suggestion: Uncover - Zara Larsson 

×××

[19.04.2020]

Bloody Twittah. 

After many, many hard years of deciding to ignore and remain oblivious about the world of the Internet and social media, I was finally on it. For one night and one night only. It was for the #DoctorWhoLockdown (whatever the hashtag even meant) and myself and my dear friend Catherine was going to watch one of the episodes we did together called Journey's End. It was one of the saddest episodes I filmed because I had to say farewell to two of my most favourite costars (also knowing my time was soon coming to an end on that show). 

After much struggle and battle, I managed to do okay with the said "tweeting" and I discovered all these wonderful birthday messages that people had sent me the day before. I knew Michael had a Twitter account and I couldn't stop myself from finding it. I scrolled down his feed, laughing at the weird stuff he did until I found these videos he did in his garden. I clicked on one of them. Oh, he was so lovely, wasn't he? I loved the way his hair grew out and the delightful little grey and white streaks gleaming through his hair. That fond smile. Dammit, I missed him.

We had kept in touch throughout the lockdown period, video calling here and there, but I missed holding him. Touching his face. I missed the sound of his voice in my ear. The way he wriggled when he laughed that you could feel it vibrating through his whole body. Those eyes that shone so bright like there were two small suns behind it. His eyes grew so blue it was almost translucent. My chest grew tight and I felt a little tear roll down my cheek. It has been so hard having my birthday without him. This was one of the first times he had missed it in so long. And it was worse now because I had been feeling depressed lately because during this entire time I couldn't see him at all. 

I was prepared to not see him for a couple of months while filming in South Africa, but to be honest it was worse knowing he was literally two hours away from me and I couldn't go to him. That hit the hardest. Seeing someone in a computer screen and talking to them via text just wasn't the same. After getting through most of the video without bursting into spontaneous tears, I furrowed my brows as I heard my name. Someone had asked Michael a question about my (in their words) extraordinary hips. Michael, I think, handled the situation well. 

Except of course the part where he called my hips slinky and then proceeded to mention Kevin Bacon of all people as if that would somehow make talking about my hips okay because he also talked about some other bloke. But God. How he stopped after talking about Kevin for a moment and suddenly jumped face first into the camera, those adorable cheeks straining high on his face by how wide he was smiling. He had to just make sure that everyone knew that it was still my hips. Mine. Yes. Me. The energy by which he spoke about me, the notable difference in the way he always said my name, the tone and hint of fondness and affection lingering like honey on his tongue. I loved him. Fuck, I loved him so much. 

I exited Twitter and rang up Michael. I knew he'd be awake. He never slept so early and he was often up into the hours of the morning because of Lyra. (Or he was searching Twitter and terrifying people....or so I heard). He answered on the third ring. 

"Hello!" His voice sent soothing pulses down my spine. 

I cleared my throat and put on my best suggestive voice. "So. I hear you are telling people how I'm a very attractive man. Making flattery remarks about my hips...How scandalous, Michael!" 

Michael chuckled on the other end. I smiled. "Never thought I'd see the day you're on Twitter. You sound kind of surprised by this? You know how I feel about your hips." 

"Oh I do. But I don't know exactly. I mean you've never really explicitly said it." 

"Would you like me to?" His tone was teasing and I could hear the shuffle of the phone static when he moved. 

"Where are you now?" 

"On my couch. You?" 

"Same. So tell me, Michael, how do you fancy my hips?" 

"I fancy it underneath me." He paused for the effect. The right bastard. "Or on top of me. My hands grasping it. Pressing my thumbs into the soft skin there. Ooh, many ways. Many thoughts." 

I gulped, face grower redder at his confession. "Carry on." 

"Mm," he murmered but didn't speak. 

I urged him on. "Come on now. Don't leave me hanging. I want to know." 

"Do you really, David?" He purposely made his voice deeper, darker. "Do you want to know how much I've missed you? How I longed to speak to you? How I wish I could pull you through the phone and into my lap? All the nights I stay up when you've gone offline to go to bed and I remember all our conversations for the day and the memories of us being together. Do you how I ache inside? When I'm in the shower and I finally get some rest after Lyra has gone to sleep. I lean my head against the wall, holding on, and I start to pull one off. It relaxes me, I think. I only think you. I draw it out until it physically pains me. Emotionally it hurts. As if my imagination and pleasure will somehow ease my longing for you. I make it last and I go so slow. I imagine you watching me. Having long, tentative sex. Making sure I make up for the weeks and months we were apart. I sleep alone at night. Anna sleeps in Lyra's bedroom now. Before I go to sleep I think of the warm space where Georgia lies. How she can cuddle you if she wants. Hold your hand. I have to shamefully admit I'm jealous of her sometimes. I mean although she's just your best friend and you love each other. You adopted her family as your own after all the children's father left. And the sweet little new one that you love adore like your own. David, I know. I know that it's not real and you're doing your part in loving them as a husband and father. But dammit. You know how selfish I can be. I want you all to myself. Is it not enough that I have to say Anna is my girlfriend and have my wonderful friend live with me, but I can't have my own damn lover in my bed! Because if you really want to know...I was so tempted one night. Oh, David you have no idea. I made countless videos over the years explaining my sexuality even though it's nobody's business and I don't actually have to disclose it. I wanted to. I felt like I needed to especially after getting Anna as a saurogette. I was so caught up in my thoughts that night and I made a ten minute long video explaining my life and how I've been in love with you since we met. I was so depressed. I needed to tell someone. Wanted to scream it to the world...Good Omens may have brought us together and I am so bloody thankful for that, but it also made it harder because I want you so much more. Want to show you off. You and those sinful hips of yours. They're mine. You're mine." 

I held my breath, my thoughts scattering like tennis balls around my now empty hollow brain. I didn't know what I should say. Because yes, I felt it too. I felt the ache and pain of being without him. The lonely nights even with Georgia next to me. The tears I cried because I couldn't be with him in public. Couldn't hold his hand. Fuck. Not everyone had to deal with the pain of having to hide a love, be in secret. Only the brokenhearted lovers knew. Only the ones who fought to be with their partner, the ones whose families despised them, the places they have to pretend in, the lies and deceit. The fucking industry making fake relationships and cover stories all because of a public image. 

I hated it. But this was my life. I alone had to walk this path. 

I swallowed the rock prodding in my throat and willed the tears not to come. 

"Tell me something good," I whispered. 

There was a short silence where I only heard the low sound of the phone line and his breathing. 

"I love you." 

I closed my eyes and tipped my head up to the ceiling. I sucked out a half laugh and half choke. It was bittersweet. 

"And I love you, Michael." 

×××

[LATER THAT EVENING - AFTER THE EPISODE WATCH] 

The glass of wine in my hand was set into the sinc and I wiped down the counters in the kitchen before I said I was heading off to bed. Georgia nodded and said she will be there soon. The TV was switched off and the lounge light. I walked up the stairs into the bedroom. I pulled off my Beatles shirt and hung it up in the cupboard. I slipped on a plain loose tee and then pulled the covers on top of me, placing my glasses at the bedside table. 

What an evening. 

The Doctor Who watch party was a success and I enjoyed watching what I had done and the memories that came with it. But there was a tightness in my chest. Just subtle enough to ignore when there were people around, yet still intense to feel when I was alone. My phone was on the bedside table as well. The light went off telling me I had a message. I stared in front of me at the wall instead, deep in thought. 

Georgia came into the bedroom and slid in next to me. "You tired?" 

"Yeah," I replied, feeling incredibly drained. 

"Okay. Well I'm off to bed. Night, David." 

"Night." 

She turned over facing away from me and snuggled into the pillow. Silence rested in the house. My mind was screaming at me. Floods and floods of memories came back and I looked at the sleeping figure of my wife. I remembered all too clearly that day. Thinking it was okay. Knowing it wasn't. We both knew it wasn't. It was a couple years ago. We were in bed. Close together, a little drunk and talking. Sometimes you forget, sometimes it felt almost real that you actually for a few moments forget who you are. Forget whose bed you're sleeping in. Our bed. Mine and Georgia's. Our house. Our family. This was our lives. 

A moment -- a brief moment of confusion, a misstep, blurred in the lines of fantasy and reality -- Georgia gripped my shirt in her hands, staring up at me with pleading blue eyes. 

"David," she whispered, her breath smelling like wine. "Kiss me." 

I did as I was told. Slotting our lips together, noticing the soft plush sweetness of her lips. Wait. My mind blared like a fog horn: this is wrong. Her lips are too soft, too delicate. I ignored this and touched her face, combed my fingers through her long blonde hair. She pressed up against me, moaning into my mouth. She arched against me, breaking away to pull off her shirt. I was stunned and slightly confused. Dazed and shaking, I looked at her creamy skin, the simple but pretty bra. All her curves and edges. Her tuant stomach. 

"Touch me," she whimpered. She didn't wait and placed my hand onto one of her breasts. 

My hand burned where I touched it and she bucked into me with another high pitched moan. I felt as if I was outside my body. I wasn't actually here. This was a shell. A mask. This figure that looked like me but wasn't me. That guy massaged her breasts until she was panting. It was him that glided his fingers over her skin and dipped into her pants. It was her husband that pleased her with his fingers until she came all over me until her legs were shaking. It wasn't me. 

After her breathing had calmed down, she reached for my pants. I sucked in a breath. I knew what this meant. There I was back into his body. That had woken me up. Her face showed what I knew as she furrowed her brows as she touched me over my pants. I looked down sheepishly to see that I was not hard. Acknowledgment shattered through her like a lightening bolt and she recoiled from my touch. 

"I see. Sorry. That was stupid of me. That was incredibly stupid. I shouldn't have asked that of you." 

"Georgia..." I began to explain but how could I explain? She already knew. 

"No. It's okay, David. Don't feel bad. It was my fault. Let's just forget it. Goodnight." 

She turned away from me and I could tell she was hurt. It was easy to forget. Especially when we had been living together for so long. When it seemed built up like reality. The husband and wife sharing a bed, so much in love. It was easy to pretend when we were together... but when we were alone. I stayed up and waited until she was fast asleep before I padded off to the bathroom. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Guilt and shame passing over me. My hair was a mess. Bags under my eyes. I breathed in deeply before slipping his pants down. 

I grabbed my soft cock in my hand, knowing what was coming. Knowing the truth was finally here in these moments. I closed my eyes and began to stoke myself slowly. Images flashed in my mind. Memories. Real memories that I kept in a box, shielded and protected. A young man with curls and an attitude came into my mind. Parts of images of pushing this man into a wall and kissing me scattered through my brain. Spiky hair. One earring. Thick thighs. My hand in his. Kisses. Soft, messy kisses. A tongue. Strong masculine hands mapping parts of me that sparked me alight. Blue eyes. 

"David," the man in my head moaned in his deep voice and accent. 

My hips stutted and I let out a little gasp. Then I really began to work myself, now fully erect and alert, heat flaming my skin. Two bodies in the darkness of the bedroom rolling around and making out. Hand discovering. Moans filling the air. Heated bodies moulding and shaping. Blending into one. Ragged breaths and pinned arms above heads. The fluid drag of my cock inside his tight body. The way his voice rasped, the hitch of his breath as I kissed his throat. That spikey curly hair in my hands. That mouth. That perfect mouth. 

"Oh fuck," I moaned softly. I was already so close. 

I turned around and positioned myself over the bath. The wet click of my hand on my cock urged me on, thinking of someone else's hands on it. Someone's warm mouth. I mouthed the name of the man. I could almost feel the softness of his hands on my body, his fingers in my hair as he tugged on them when he came. My back arched and I worked meself faster. The man moaned my name over and over, telling me to fuck him harder. I recalled the feeling of his sweaty skin against mine, the ache in my thighs, the nails down my back. It wasn't long before I spilling hard into the bathtub, my legs shaky and body spasming. 

"Michael," I breathed the man's name on my lips as I felt the after-effects of my orgasm render me into sweet bliss. 

My breathing had calmed down, no longer breathy moans and fast pants. I collected myself. I pulled my pants and underwear back up. I knelt down with deep concentration of a man who was trying to keep it together. I created this wall of composure but I knew inside. With a blank expression, I got down on my knees and scrubbed the bath clean of the evidence. I fixed my hair in the mirror and went back into the room. 

I blinked. I was now back in my room five years later just after Georgia had said goodnight to me after we watched Doctor Who. I was still sitting up against the propped pillows, my phone still calling for me to answer the message. I sucked my lip in my mouth and sought after my phone. The phone light shone brightly in the darkness and my eyes had to adjust a bit to the brightness. The WhatsApp message hadn't been read yet. I clicked onto the chat and quickly reviewed the precious conversation. 

21:07 PM - Did you enjoy that? 

21:10 PM - Lyra finally got to sleep. Just cleaning up now. Going to bed soon. You? 

21:28 PM - I miss you 

I stared at the last message. My chest got tight again. I typed on the keypad and then erased it. I had so much to say. Yesterday was my birthday and I never told anyone how the whole day I was smiling and laughing with my family and then when I went to shower that evening I couldn't breathe from all the crying I did. I was clutching my chest, water covering my red stained eyes. It wasn't fair. He should be here with me right now. 

22:04 PM - I miss you too. 

The message was read instantly. I couldn't help feel a sense of pride at that. 

22:04 PM - You in bed? 

22:06 PM - Yeah. G asleep. 

22:08 PM - I wish I could see you right now. It's been terrible lately. Feeling rather depressed a little. Especially yesterday. I hope you had a good day though. I'm sorry I couldn't send you anything. Mail is shit now. 

I smiled softly. 

22:10 PM - No. It's okay. This whole thing is difficult for everyone. I hope Anna is doing well with this. Must be difficult and strange for her too. 

22:12 PM - She's doing alright. It's you in worried about. I dreamed about you two nights ago. Woke up with tears in my eyes. I can't wait until I can see you again. I watched Doctor Who with all of you actually. Thought I should join in the fun. 

22:13 PM - And? 

22:14 PM - and you still look bloody attractive, Mr Tennant 

22:15 PM - shut it 

22:15 PM - not a chance 

22:16 PM - I think about you more than usual... 

22:16 PM - Me too. David? 

22:17 PM - Yes? 

[Michael Sheen is typing...] 

[Michael Sheen is typing...] 

[Michael Sheen is typing...] 

22:22 PM - I love you 

I sucked in a breath. The pain in my chest subsided a fraction and warmth flooded through me. I smiled, tears wetting my eyes. 

22:22 PM - I love you, Michael 

22:23 PM - I know 

×××

[AFTER LOCKDOWN] 

It was quiet. Surprisingly the TV wasn't on and the radio wasn't playing music as I stepped inside Michael's house in Wales. Beams of sunshine from the opened window lit the living room and I found Michael sitting on his couch like he had been waiting there ever since I said I wanted to come over. Michael immediately looked up at me when I walked in the room, his eyes raking over my outfit with a soft warm smile. 

My name sounded different in his mouth. I didn't know if any else noticed. I'd like to think they didn't, that it was my secret. The way he put so much of his emotions and adoration fitted so fully into one single word was beyond me. Only Michael could make you weak like that and add that with a look and you were gone for. Michael and I have shared many looks over the years. And this time it was no different. He said my name, the weight of missing me over this strange and devastating time over lockdown evident in the tone of his voice. 

"David." 

That one word. I was ready to crawl across this space and hold him and never let him go. No amount of words could describe how much I ached for him -- in the simplest way that I wanted to hold his hand. We couldn't do that much anymore. I thought back to when no one really knew us and I smiled at the memory. Holding hands, dates at restaurants and kissing in movie theatres. I thought about those moments more now than ever before. 

I was dressed in a pair of slightly loose fitting blue jeans, a black t-shirt with my new caramel and brown coat. I wasted no time with pleasantries of hellos and how are yous. I was breathless ever since I walked in the door and realised that I could smell Michael's scent all around the house. My mouth parted, my chest ignited with emotions that were kept inside from the months apart. I strode towards the man with the whitening beard in a green sweater I had never seen before and grey sweatpants. 

"God, Michael," my voice betrayed me by breaking. 

Michael met my eyes with the same fervour. He patted his legs as an invitation and I slumped naturally down into him, straddling him. The first contact of our bodies left me shaking. I nuzzled into Michael's neck and breathed in deeply. Michael let out a giggle. I pulled back and smiled at him. 

"My new moustache tickling you?" 

Michael grinned and looked me over. "You do look strange with it. But I don't mind. I've had my fair share of strange looks for roles. Come here." 

He cradled me in his arms, wrapping it around me tightly and pressing me into his chest. Neither of us cared that we were grown men and not teenage boys anymore and that it would probably hurt Michael's legs later. We cuddled into each other and sighed contentedly. I kissed Michael's cheek, pouring in my affection into the kiss. I peppered light kisses down his jawline and down to the start of his neck. I pressed my lips harder to the sensitive spot just under the curve of Michael's ear where it met his jawline. I nipped at it making Michael breathe faster. 

"Missed you," I said.

Michael tightened his hold on me. "Missed you, too." 

I continued kissing then licking up and around his neck. Michael moaned softly at the imitate touches of my mouth. He stroked my back with the expanse of his hand and rested his head against my body. I suddenly felt really hot in my clothes and decided to shed some of it. Michael helped me out of the wintery coat. 

"I love this material," Michael commented. 

"It's so soft on the inside. I love your new sweater. Where did you get it?" 

"Oh, my fans got it for me." 

"That's so lovely." 

Once in just my t-shirt, I laid my head on Michael's shoulder. I listened to each intake of breath and the rise of his shoulder against my jaw. I closed my eyes. 

"I'm sorry about being away since lockdown got lifted. I meant to come visit sooner," I murmered, half falling asleep. 

"It's okay. I was meant to call you yesterday already." 

"I'm glad we get to be like this. Us. Alone. I wouldn't trade these moments for anything. We don't get much of these anymore. I miss it. I miss you." 

"I know. I love times like this. We will make more time for each other soon. Promise." 

I lifted my head up and hovered my lips over Michael's. I could see the way Michael's lips waited in anticipation and the blue in his eyes were brighter every time that I was near. His hair had grown out in massive curls around his head and I wanted to wrap my fingers in it and play with the strands. I placed my lips on Michael's. A feather light touch. Heat sank into my body as Michael let out a soft whine. I slid our lips together slowly, admitting the feel of the kiss to memory. The glide of each lip slotting together, the breathy gasps, the wetness of our saliva mixing as I licked into his mouth with desire and need. I sucked on his bottom lip, earning a moan from him. We kissed like this for what felt like hours, maybe it was. Michael traced my back in circles, running his blunt nails down my ribs and over my stomach, up towards my shoulders again. He ran his hands down my arms that had tangled around his neck and fisted into his hair. 

"Hmm," Michael moaned in a gruff tone. "Part of me wants to take you up to bed and the other part of me just wants to fall asleep in your arms." 

I chuckled. "We could do both?" 

"Nah. Later. Just this. Just kiss me." 

I smiled, my eyes reflecting his happiness. I leaned into Michael again and kissed him, my hands now grabbing his face. I kissed him tenderly, my fingers stroking his cheek and beard. Michael placed both arms around my waist, keeping me in his grasp. He allowed me to play with his lips and bite to my content. I sucked on his tongue, searched every corner of his mouth with my own, kissed until his lips were numb. 

"Want to lie down with me?" Michael asked. 

I nodded. I slid down with Michael. We laid face to face just gazing lovingly at each other. Michael pulled me into his arms and I rested my head on his chest. We rested like that for a while until Michael suggested we shower together. He ran the water while I stripped off my clothes. When the water was warm enough, we stepped into the shower. Michael lathered the sponge with sweet smelling peach soap. 

He washed my chest, feeling the muscle ripple under his hands, the defined lines of my chest and abdomen. Water droplets dropped down in patterns and Michael licked the stray droplets on my collarbone. The warmth infused us and I washed him in turn. I glided the sponge over Michael's belly and up his shoulders. I breathed quicker, the intimacy exploding my body in heat because of him not the water. Our lips touched and we kissing slowly and sweetly, the water mixing with our kisses. I washed every part of him, exploring and kissing the skin with tenderness. He kept complaining that he had picked up weight (he said he ate way too much chocolate spread) but I kept telling him he looked beautiful to me. I loved his body. The plush softness, the expanse of it was made for me to grab and fondle and love. 

It was easy, natural. Being with him had always felt easier than anything else I had ever done. We dried ourselves off with fluffy towels and slipped into gowns. Back in the lounge, Michael blew my hair out with a hairdryer. I was lulled by the sensation of his fingers through my hair, the way he was lightly threading his fingers through it like it was something precious. The heat made the long length of my hair look like a fluffy dog's coat and we giggled together after Michael's hair expanded around his head in weird knots. We snuggled together on the couch, Pointless played in the background as we spoke and laughed together. 

This was what I had been needing during the entire time without him. Lockdown was hard because I couldn't see him, we went months before without speaking to each other at times and it was still as hard as ever. More so now that I had a taste of working with him. We played some video games and ate lunch. I knew I had to leave when the weekend was over and go back to London, but I enjoyed this time with him. When we were alone we could be ourselves and that was all I ever wanted for us. Perhaps one day we could make it public. Tell the world. Scream we loved each other from the rooftops. 

For now though, we have this.


End file.
